By Catfish McDaris
"Hey dude, you're looking a shade ragged, for a hairy motherfucker." "Yea, I haven't been able to shit for three days, last full moon I got whacked out and ate a Mexican wino. He must have been full of cheese and beans and Mad Dog 20-20, I've been stopped up every since. Mind if I use your facilities?" "No problema amigo, but I have to warn you I've been meaning to move the outhouse and I never got around to it." Hombre Lobo took the trail down to the shit house. It was a gray wooden shack with a half moon cut in the door. When he got near, his canine nostrils flared and twitched in disgust. Hmmm he thought, smells like a combo of dead road kill skunk, stinky whore pinoche, and rotting barf. His belly was grumbling like a dump truck full of skeletons on a bumpy road. Fuck he thought stench and all. Opening the door, green bubble-eyed flies were playing soccer with a rat turd on the seat, a blood red spider with a hard on was waiting in its web for a snack. Lobo shooed them out and dropped his laundry. Just as his hairy ass cheeks hit wood, he heard muffled Chinese coming from between his legs. He rose up and peered down into the hole, two oriental men knee deep in shit were pushing a wheelbarrow. Too late the big one was on its way, Hombre Lobo let out a howl as he dropped the mother lode. The Chinamen were cursing him. “Chinga, chow, chui, chop suey, you big hairy cocksucker shit machine." Just for that Lobo took a king sized wolf piss to wash them off. He walked back to the house and told his amigo what happened. “I forgot to tell you my neighbors wanted to fertilize their garden. Don't sweat it Lobo, you're the reason God made a middle finger."
____________________________________________________________________
BIO: Catfish McDaris was born in New Mexico. He was an artillery gunner for 3 years in the army. He was contributing editor to Shrimp! and Latino Stuff Review. His words have been translated into many languages including Esperanto. He's been put up for the Pushcart many times and by Gerald Locklin. He won the Uprising Award in 1999 and the Flash Fiction Award at Gypsy in 2010, judged by the U.S. Poet Laureate. Catfish is in the 2011 Poet's Market under The Louisiana Review with Gary Snyder. McDaris is now retired from 34 years of slaving for Uncle Sam, now he may attempt to start a catfish farm and that's how he got his name.
No comments:
Post a Comment